


A Beautiful Mess

by sharkle



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkle/pseuds/sharkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment between Harry and Ginny at the Burrow turns into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Mess

It isn't cold.

They're laying on the floor and they have no blankets and are hardly wearing clothes and it's the middle of a brisk early-winter night, but they're not cold. Ginny is wrapped in Harry's arms and her head is on his bare chest, right over his heart, and she can hear it beating and it's making her smile; they're not speaking, barely breathing, and it's so dark outside and in that they might as well be blind, and right now - _that's okay_.

This is _their_ time, this is _them_ , these moments spent in Ginny's old room with the sheets hanging off her bed and half her wardrobe carpeting the floor and her Weird Sisters poster peeling off the wall: These are the moments that Harry _lives_ for, has always lived for.

Four years ago, he was seventeen and already dying inside, and to even dream of spending nights with his feet dangling from a third-floor window and a breeze blowing into his face that whispers, "Ginny" - to dream of that was foolish, naive, _painful_.

Now, Harry can do that and - and he knows that if he ever wanted to, he could take Ginny's hand and jump, just fall into oblivion, and she would fall with him and help him survive the impact and mend his broken bones and lift him back up again, every time he loses his grip. He _knows_ that.

And then there are days when all of his love for her makes him feel just - just _invincible_ and he wonders if it is really possible to love someone this much, wonders if he manages to let her know; but then she kisses him and nothing has ever been, ever felt so real and he thinks that maybe she might understand.

So here they are, here they are, all tangled up in each other and this perfection, soaking up the silence, for once reveling in the darkness: Being blind heightens all their other senses, so that Harry is hyper-aware of the tingling sensation dancing along his skin where Ginny's warm hand meets his chiller torso, of the flowery scent of her hair hanging in the air, of the way every contour of his body seems to fit with hers like the missing piece of a puzzle.

Here they are.

"You know," Harry remarks quietly, the first words spoken in quite a while, "laying on the floor probably wouldn't be so comfortable if I didn't have a beautiful woman draped across my chest."

Softly, Ginny laughs - a slightly breathy sound that fills the whole room and makes the corners of Harry's mouth lift.

"Damn straight," she mutters. "And don't you forget it."

He won't, ever, but she already knows that - so he huffs a contented sigh, making Ginny's head rise and fall. It is all just so right - right where he needs to be, in this right now; the wrongs don't matter, that they've had a fights over rumors in tabloids, that if she had her way she would never let him go on another Auror mission, that, well, he is _Harry Potter_ and she is _Ginny Weasley_ , and maybe this shouldn't work, but - but that's exactly it, they're Harry and Ginny and through everything, they _do_ work.

"Your heart just skipped a beat," Ginny informs him.

"I know."

Harry can feel it building up inside him and tries to fight it down; this isn't how he wants to do this. But after a few minutes Ginny has brushed kisses along his jawline and it's sent shivers down his spine and he gives up, because he'll never come up with a plan anyway, he's never been good at planning. And with one hand on the small of Ginny's back and the other playing idly with the tips of her hair, he doesn't ever remember being so calm.

"Ginny?" he whispers.

A beat before she says, "Yeah?"

"You're going to marry me, right?"

It's so faint that Harry almost misses it: Ginny's breath catches, the only sign that she's even heard him aside from her grip on him tightening convulsively. His heart has thumped three, four, five more times before she lifts her head from his chest so as to try and look at him.

"That depends," she says, laying back down, and as she goes on he can hear the smile stretching in her voice. "Is this your real proposal?"

He's already reaching for his wand, already giving it a flick. "If you want it to be."

And while her grin is growing and his is starting to develop, Harry takes her hand, kisses her palm, and slides onto her finger the ring that appeared with the flick. He thinks, for a fleeting moment, that Ginny's hand is shaking when she gently removes it from his grasp - then it's gone and she's twisting the ring round her finger and taking it in and Harry is already just beaming and he hopes Ginny can feel his love for her thundering through his veins and his heart -

And with something between a sigh and a gasp she is saying, "You can't expect me to say anything but yes," and she is kissing him like never before; he pulls her as tightly against him as possible, not one ounce of cold or ice or bad things in him, only warm and elation and the whole sun and good things, and he wants this feeling to last forever, for the fire to never die.

They break apart and revert to their original position, only now Harry can feel the metal of the ring against him where Ginny's left hand is.

"I love you," he says, because he means it and because he never gets tired of saying it, having someone to say it to.

"I know," Ginny murmurs (and she does), and the next part he also never gets tired of hearing: "I love you, too."

He wonders if they might fall asleep right where they are - there's no place else he'd rather be, and he is so comfortable - and in fact they do, they go to sleep right there on the floor, legs all intertwined and drowning in the perfect again.

And as Harry is drifting off, Ginny mumbles, "Ginny Potter" in her sleep and he has to repress an urge to leap up and jump for joy and yell his head off because -

It sounds _right_.

They're still here.


End file.
